


A Lifetime of Regret

by MsThunderFrost



Category: Bleach
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Children, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Forgiveness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Aizen/Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Post Mpreg, Protective Kurosaki Ichigo, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secrets, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Kurosaki Ichigo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: "You're the one decision I don't regret making."***How had he let things spiral so far out of hand?How badly was Grimmjow hurt?What had he done?





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be writing fanfic for Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens, and then I was digging through my old, unfinished fanworks and found this... this instead. Please go easy on me, as it is my first Bleach fanfic.

Love can't exist without fear. If the thought of losing someone doesn't scare the shit out of you, then it's not love. - Anonymous

***

He didn’t even remember what the fight had been about, it had been that inconsequential.

His bedroom lay in ruins. Feathers from the comforter were strewn in every direction, broken glass from a shattered lamp crunching beneath his feet. The front of his dresser looked as if it had become the scratching post for a wild animal, and there were drops of blood, still fresh, dotting his windowsill. His curtains sat askew, the material torn in several places and wet with blood.

How had he let things spiral so far out of hand?

How badly was Grimmjow hurt?

 _What had he done_?

* * *

Of the two of them, Ichigo was the voice of reason. He was the level-headed one, who’d much rather use his words than his fists to resolve his problems. And yet this time, he had been the one to… Ichigo stared at his hand, the knuckles swollen and blistered. He felt like he’d taken a page out of the older man’s book, getting so _mad_ that he lost control of himself and just _hit_ him.

What had happened immediately after would be forever ingrained in his memory. The teal-haired Arrancar had chuckled blandly, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. A single tear had chased down his cheek, and then he’d begun to _laugh_. It was a deep, belly laugh that was so painfully hollow and broken that it shook Ichigo to his core.

Grimmjow never hit him back.

In fact, he tilted his head back and jutted out his chin so that the orange-haired teen might have a better shot this time around. And he’d waited there, patiently, for the blow that never came.

Blood dripped through the massive teeth of his hollow mask, his cheek swelling rapidly and turning a painful shade of purple that clashed horribly with the vibrancy of his hair. It must’ve hurt like a bitch.

He was breathing heavily, and he raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair – Grimm must’ve misinterpreted the motion, as he flinched as soon as he began moving. How many others had hurt the Sexta Espada, claiming that everything that they did was in the name of love? Ichigo did not think he’d ever truly hated himself until that moment, knowing that the mighty Arrancar was actually _afraid_ and it was all… his… fault.

 _“I think that you should probably leave.”_ He winced, only now able to comprehend how harsh those words must’ve seemed. Grimm had done nothing wrong, _this_ … all of it… was on him. But it was so much easier to blame Grimm.

He’d expected so much more than the soft whisper of, _“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”_  He’d needed the Arrancar to yell, to cuss, to _fight_ , because he refused to be the only one to blame here, damn it.

The Arrancar had practically deflated – all of the bravado he’d previously displayed flowing from him like water as he made his way toward the window. Ichigo felt his heart stutter painfully in his chest as he watched those powerful hands shake as he attempted to open the pane. He wanted to help him, to wrap his own hands around Grimmjow’s trembling ones and steady them… to show him that he was not alone.

Which brought him to the present moment, where he stood alone in the middle of the decimated bedroom, his hand throbbing with a pain his mind barely registered. He still couldn’t remember what the damn fight was about, not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Collapsing face-first onto the bed, he buried his face in the nearest pillow and screamed at the top of his lungs. He screamed until his face turned bright red and his throat was raw.

Why did he have to fuck up the only good thing that he had going for him?

* * *

It’d been a little over a week since their fight, and Grimmjow had made himself scarce. Ichigo had done his best to put his room back in order, but… he tried not to be in there, more often than not. Laying in the bed only served to remind him of how big it was when the Arrancar was not snuggled in beside him. Sitting at his desk only made him think about how the teal-haired Hollow wouldn’t come barging in through his window to disturb his studies.

There was a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, his father let himself inside and offered a soft, “Ichigo…”

“What do you want, old man? I’m not in the mood.” Ichigo said sourly. His face was contorted in a mask of perfect misery. Rolling onto his side, he turned his back to the raven and closed his eyes.

“The spirit… He hasn’t been by, recently.” Isshin began, sounding mildly uncomfortable. Rubbing the back of his neck, he continued, “I just want you to know that, if you need to talk -,”

“I don’t _want_ to talk about it.” Ichigo snapped. He waited for the sound of shuffling footsteps gradually receding down the hall, or the door softly shutting… Instead, the bed dipped down behind him and a tentative hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“Ichigo…” the older man sighed, “You can deny it all you want, but the fact that you haven’t tried to physically maim me yet says more about your current psyche than words ever could.”

Ichigo frowned, “We can always change that.” He said, but there was no venom behind his words.

Isshin shook his head, “I’d prefer it if we could just talk, this time.”

After a few tense moments of silence, Ichigo sighed. He told his father the bits that he could remember, like how he’d taken it upon himself to attempt to rearrange the bones in the Arrancar’s face. His father sat and listened attentively, his face an unreadable mask. When Ichigo finally finished speaking, he expected his father to lash out at him, to confirm his suspicions about what an awful person he was for laying hands on his partner…

Reaching out, a strong arm wrapped around him and pulled him taut against a firm back. For the first time since the fight, he felt tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. He choked back a sob, burying his face in his father’s back to hide the shame. What had he done? _What had he done?_ His heartbeat was accelerating rapidly, and he found himself unable to fill his aching lungs. Hot tears spilled faster and faster over reddened, swollen cheeks.

“Ichi, I need you to breathe for me now.” He said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. He demonstrated how Ichigo should breathe in order to calm down, and after several moments, Ichigo followed suit.

“You’re not… mad?” Ichigo asked weakly. To be honest, this was not the reaction that he’d been expecting from the old man.

“Well, I’m not exactly happy.” Isshin confessed softly. When Ichigo began to tense beneath him, however, he softly ran his fingers through the younger’s orange locks and continued with, “What you did was wrong. But you don’t need me to tell you what you already know.”

Ichigo sniffled, wiping his still-leaking eyes on the back of his hand. “I don’t expect you to lie and tell me that everything is just going to magically be okay again, either.”

“Good, ‘cause I wasn’t planning on doing that, either.” Isshin said, cracking a small smile.

With much more care than he’d ever thought the old man capable of, Ichigo was shifted on the bed so that his back was propped up against the headboard. A nearby box of tissues was shoved into his lap rather unceremoniously. Isshin held his son’s gaze for several minutes without speaking, allowing him to calm down from his crying fit. Once he deemed him calm enough, he began.

“Relationships are difficult, son. While I wish that I could tell you that just loving someone was enough to make a life work with them, that just isn’t the case. It takes real commitment. A willingness to look past those parts of them that drive you absolutely crazy. A desire to fix things when they’re broken.” Isshin said softly.

Ichigo frowned, “You think that I don’t know that?”

Instead of answering, Isshin continued, “Grimmjow is a creature that thrives on violence and conflict, Ichi. He likes to push your buttons to get a rise out of you. That’s just how he is. And being in a relationship with someone like that… well, fights are inevitable.”

Ichigo sniffled, “Maybe being in a relationship with someone like that isn’t healthy.”

But his father shook his head, “No. What isn’t healthy is bottling up your emotions and letting all the anger and negativity fester until you explode. You hurt Grimmjow because you were angry. Not at the fight, but at _him_.”

And suddenly, it had all come flooding back. The fight, oh Kami it had been so fucking _stupid_! He’d asked Grimm why, for once, he couldn’t just fucking act normal when they were out in public together. Even if the vast majority of humans couldn’t see him, most of Ichigo’s friends had at least enough spiritual awareness to _sense_ him. And the teal-haired man could just be so goddamned immature sometimes! He swore that a child-sized Nell had more maturity in her pinky finger than that grown man did in his entire body!

On this particular occasion, Grimmjow seemed to have tapped his feline instincts and, when a rather attractive woman had gotten too close to what he deemed ‘his territory’, he’d set about marking him. Publicly marking him. With little mind to their audience, which included little old ladies and children under the age of five, he’d promptly given Ichigo a hickey the size of a small lemon. While most of them couldn’t actually _see_ the Arrancar, he couldn’t just explain away a bruise of that size that had seemingly formed out of thin air. If he could have, he probably would have killed him right then and there.

If this had just been a one-off occurrence, it probably wouldn’t have pissed him off so much. But Grimmjow was eternally doing stupid shit just like that. One of the most memorable occasions was when the Sexta Espada had attempted to challenge a spiritually aware seven-year-old boy to a duel after the kid accidentally ran over the Arrancar’s foot with his bike. He’d practically had to _drag_ the lumbering oaf away, and he’d spent the rest of the day whining like a kicked puppy. It was enough to drive a perfectly sane man to his wits end!

“You need to communicate with each other. It isn’t fair to assume that he can read your mind.” Isshin said softly, placatingly. “Understand that it is not in his nature to view his actions as wrong. He’s merely acting on instinct.”

The anger had long since been drained from the Shinigami, and now he was just unbearably tired. He’d give anything to have the teal-haired Hollow in his arms again. “I just… I want him back. I need him.”

“I suspect that the feeling is very much mutual, however he may be extremely reluctant to trust you when you first find him.” Isshin warned. It hurt to see the way his son’s face seemed to crumble at the news, but he needed him to understand.

The tears returned full-force, and he was glad to have the tissues close at hand. “I wish that I could turn back time and make it so that none of this ever happened.”

Isshin nodded, “I said that what you did was wrong, not that I did not understand.”

“Will he ever be able to forgive what I’ve done to him?” The look of abject horror on Grimm’s face, the blood dripping from between the gruesome teeth of his Hollow mask, would be forever ingrained in his memory.

“I’ve seen the love the two of you share.” Isshin said with a tiny half-smile. “There’s no doubt in my mind that the panther will take you back, Ichi.”

* * *

“How long has he been like this?”

“Hard to say.” There was a soft _whoosh_ as Grimm’s blade sliced through the air, “A better question would be: how long can he keep this up?”

“Do you have an answer for that one?”

The second Hollow shrugged, “However long it takes the strawberry-teme to get off his high horse and come apologize, I imagine.” A sigh, “Until then, I feel sorry for the poor sap that gets in Grimm’s way.”

For Grimmjow, while the physical wounds had long since healed, the mental wounds were still painfully fresh. Ichigo wanted him to be _normal_. What the fuck did that even mean? There was nothing even remotely ‘normal’ about Grimm, from his cyan hair to his nuclear personality… And he didn’t want to be ‘normal’. Normal was for losers in the world of the living, who worked their nine to five, got married, had a litter of kids, and died at the ripe old age of eighty.

With a grunt, he sheathed his sword and touched a hand to his newly healed cheek. Ichigo’s punch had hurt like a bitch, but… what surprised him the most was his utter lack of desire to hit the younger man back. He’d laughed in an effort to break the tension, to ignore the horrible pain throbbing through his skull, and he’d felt absolutely no desire to hit Ichigo back. Instead, it felt as if something had snapped inside of him… like a string pulled tightly had snapped.

He hadn’t expected his strawberry to kick him out, either. Knowing Ichigo as well as he _thought_ he did, he’d expected the other man to fret over what he’d just done… to be _repentant_. Instead, he’d kicked him and his still-bleeding ass to the curb and hadn’t spoken to him in something like two weeks. Grimmjow was growing tired of cutting up the air. The other Hollows were wisely keeping their distance, none too anxious to test the truth depths of his ire.

“Are you quite done?” Well, all but one, it would seem.

Ulquiorra stood about twenty feet to his left, staring at him with those dull green eyes of his. “What the fuck do you want?” Grimmjow was in no mood for company, but then, his fellow Espada had never truly cared _what_ he wanted.

“Not that I care whether or not you extend yourself beyond your means and eventually collapse from exhaustion,” Ulquiorra began in that frustratingly flat tone of his, “Haliel is concerned. It is not healthy for one who has -,”

Pantera suddenly returned to the Sexta Espada’s hand, and was leveled at the smaller man’s throat. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

“It is not a secret that you’ve kitted, Grimmjow.” His fellow Arrancar said softly. “Just because Ichigo is unaware of the signs doesn’t mean that we are all so blind. Were you ever planning to tell him that he’s a father?”


	2. Not Quite a Love Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING(s): Flashbacks of Rape/Non-Con, Brief Mentions of Suicidal Tendencies/Ideations, etc. Please proceed with caution!
> 
> This was originally gonna be longer, considering I made you all wait so long for an update, but I’m tired and my computer battery is dying. It’s like 1:40AM here so I’m gonna call it and promise to try to make the next installment bigger.

Grimmjow huffed, "Don't know what the hell you're talkin' about." 

The raven-haired Espada closed the distance between them and jabbed his finger into the soft flesh of Grimm's stomach. His abdominal muscles twinged at the uncomfortable sensation, "I'm surprised that you were able to keep the truth from him for so long..." he cooed, dragging his fingers along the taller's stomach, before coming to rest where his hollow hole  _should_ have been. "Any fool with eyes can see the way that your body's changed."

"Get your hands off of me." He shoved Ulquiorra off of him with a bit more force than necessary, a twinge of annoyance rattling his already frayed nerves when the bastard's emotionless face did not so much as budge. 

"I see." Dull green eyes blinked slowly, before he continued, "You do realize, if you don't tell him, there is always the chance that their paths will cross one day. As long as that child is bound to you, it is a threat to Soul Society and there is a very real chance that he will be forced to kill them." Ulquiorra cocked his head to the side, "Although, I suppose that that is always a possibility, even if he were to know the truth. Or perhaps it would be  _because_ of that truth."

Grimmjow stroked his newly-healed cheek with a trembling hand. There were many reasons that he hadn't told Ichigo about the baby... about  _both_ of his children. He couldn't very well deny, after what had happened, that he hadn't considered the possibility that Ichigo might reject their child. "Did you just come here to prattle on aimlessly? Because, if so, brava. I am officially bored to tears." He gripped, but he  _did_ set down his sword and plop himself down with a huff.

Even if Ulquiorra's facial features never actually moved, his face did seem to soften a bit. "Where is the child now, Grimmjow?"

"The hell if I know." Grimmjow snorted, "Probably off destroyin' half of Hueco Mundo with Elsinore. I don't really keep tabs on 'em unless the situation's dire or I'm headed into the land of the livin'." 

"Such a great father." And there was that goddamned monotone that managed to sound utterly superior and condescending at the same time. It made Grimmjow want to punch something. Preferrably Ulquiorra's face.

Grimmjow promptly deflated and, rubbing the back of his neck, confessed softly, "Its not like I wanted to kit, okay? Not after..." he trailed off, swallowing hard and staring off into the distance to avoid Ulquiorra's unsettlingly steady eye contact. "It hurts to look at her sometimes. And I know that ain't her fault, that she's not responsible for what... what Aizen did... but sometimes its just easier to... to..." he subconsciously started rubbing his cheek again.

"Cutting up the air isn't going to solve your problems." Ulquiorra said, perhaps the first rational,  _helpful_ thing that he'd said all day.

"Yeah," Grimmjow agreed, hoising  _Pantera_ into the air and admiring the way that the light glinted off of the silver of the blade. "But its a lot less messy than hackin' the strawberry-teme to little bite-sized bits."

Ulquiorra left him then. The audience he'd acquired during his hours of non-stop training seemed to have dissipated as well. For the first time in recent memory, he was all alone--the reality of it caused Grimmjow to frown.

He truly hadn't meant to let Ichigo knock him up. His first pregnancy had been a little over two and a half years earlier, after Soul Society had all but slaughtered his Fraccion and Aizen had demanded he return and face the consequences of taking action without proper leave to do so. Aizen had raped him, repeatedly, for what amounted to one week in human terms--but in Hueco Mundo, where the passage of time was distorted, it had felt like a small eternity. He'd told him that it was punishment for his weakness, for letting his subordinates die. He'd asked him if the loss was made all the more painful by their blood running through his fingers, as he'd dug his hands into the raw, half-healed wound on his chest.

He'd asked him how it felt to be reminded of his place as he shoved his face so deep into the pillow his lungs burned hotly for air, blood slicking the way as he violently thrust in and out of Grimmjow's body. Tears and snot had slicked the pillow as Aizen reminded him that this punishment was  _merciful_ \--he was lucky that he was so pretty, because the others who'd been foolish enough to disobey his orders had suffered far worse fates. Grimmjow certainly didn't feel lucky. He felt dirty and violated, unable to tell the difference between when the torture began and when it ended because every moment living inside of his skin was absolute agony. And then it happened: his hollow hole disappeared.

He'd managed to hide the truth from Aizen for about a week or so, but pregnancies for Hollows weren't like those experienced by humans--it only took a handful of weeks for Grimmjow to start to show, and after what would amount to about three months later, Elsinore was born. Aizen had been... less than thrilled about having a daughter, but nonetheless had taken her from Grimmjow just hours after she was born and had disappeared for  _days_. Grimmjow, still weak from the birth, had been in no position to retrieve her. And honestly, after everything that he'd endured, he was absolutely terrified of what would happen to him if he tried. It was during that time that he'd met Ichigo again.

For the first time since he could remember, he'd traveled to the land of the living with perfectly innocent intentions. But of course Ichigo and his merry band of idiots wouldn't see it that way. Considering that he wasn't actually doing anything wrong, he didn't expect to be met with much resistance--the cold kiss of steel against his neck told a different story, however. When he'd leaned into the blade far enough that a thin line of deep crimson slowly began to streak down his neck, Ichigo had made a biting remark about Grimmjow having a death wish and the blue-haired Hollow had smiled, his white teeth flashing, and confessed that the red-head would be doing him a favor. It was the start of a beautiful relationship.

Not. Grimmjow rubbed his cheek once more; he'd thought that the strawberry-teme was different. But in the end, everything just... hurt.

"Daddy!" A tiny body barrelled into his back full-force and sent the two of them toppling to the ground. He instinctively twisted so he would hit the ground first, just a few inches from his abandoned blade.

"Elsie, how many times do I have to tell you that Daddy's body ain't a friggin' bouncy castle!" He gripped, hoisting the little one into the air and fixing her with his best stink-eye. She only giggled, flailing her limbs playfully as if she were on some kind of amusement ride. "What're you doin', anyway? Aren't you supposed to be playing hide and seek with the Adjuchas or somethin'?" He asked, wondering where the lesser Hollows that usually hung around her were lurking.

Elsinore pouted, "I was, but I wanna play with  _you_ now. Nel was telling me all about this super cool game called cops and robbers--you'll be the robber, and I'll be the cop, and I'll explode you with fire!" She said far too happily.

Grimmjow eyed her warily, "I hope you realize that I'm smart enough not to let you near real fire. Not after last time."

She rolled her eyes, "So I burned down a  _couple_ of trees," she dismissed the weight of the crime with a wave of her hand.

"A few trees?" He scoffed, "Try a whole goddamned forest, kid. You burned damn near seventy Gillians alive."

Her smile was too much like Aizen's for comfort. And while Grimmjow wasn't necessarily opposed to the level of violence she displayed toward the mid- and low-ranked Hollows, something about that smile just made him feel sick to his stomach. Completely disregarding everything that he had said up until that moment, she chirped, "Well, are we gonna play, Daddy? Are we? Are we?  _Please_..."

"Everytime we "play" together, I always end up gettin' blown to kingdom come. Care to share how that's supposed to be fun?" He asked.

"Then take me to the land of the living and let me blow up Strawberry-san." She demanded petulantly. She hated Grimmjow's (ex?)boyfriend with a burning passion that was almost amusing, considering the two had never actually met.

While the little girl bore an uncanny resemblance to Aizen, she'd inherited some of Grimmjow's more feline qualities. His favorite were her ears--two large, fluffy white peaks sat atop her head, rooted in a sea of azure and chocolate brown hair. And her sense of smell was unmatched. She could recognize most people on scent alone, so when she'd first smelled Ichigo's scent on the Espada she'd all but demanded Grimmjow tell her everything. He had to admit: at first, he'd been worried she'd take what he said and run off and report it to Aizen. But it became clear, after the first couple of times he'd opened up to her, that she was just a little kid that was genuinely interested in learning more about her Daddy.

So of course, when he'd returned to Hueco Mundo with a suspiciously hand-shaped bruise on his cheek, she had not been happy. It didn't take a genious to piece together what had happened, and any admiration that she might have had for the shinigami flew right out the window. What she lacked in size the little girl certainly made up for in power, and he had no doubt that she'd give Ichigo a run for his money, even without a weapon. Brief flashes of a fire engulfing a small forest, Gillians screaming in horror as they were unable to flee the scene before they burned alive, filled his mind. Yeah, it was probably for the best that he kept her away from Ichigo for now.

And then a thought occurred to him, "Where the hell's your brother?" He asked, just now noticing that Elsinore was very much alone. 

"Umm..." the little girl blinked slowly, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to remember. "I think I left him with Nel when we were playing earlier." 

Grimmjow sighed, "You  _think_?" His tone must've been harsher that he'd intended, because tears suddenly sprung into the little one's eyes. He set her down on the ground, pinching his nose and silently counting backwards from ten. "It's fine. Everything is... fine. I'm not mad." Elsinore looked up at him uncertainly, "Let's just go find him, okay? Its time for the two of you to eat, anyway."

"Then we play cops and robbers?" Elsinore asked.

Now it was Grimmjow's turn to roll his eyes, "Sure. What the hell."

 


End file.
